Defenders of the Force Episode 6: The Fading Spirit
by EsmeAmelia
Summary: The latest Revolutionaries attack has left Han in a coma. As the Solos and Skywalkers struggle to find a cure, Ahsoka sets out to catch the person responsible. Meanwhile, Han's spirit is trapped in his dreams with only a ghost to guide him. Sixth story in a series featuring Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, the droids, and OCs. Episode complete.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Thanks again to everyone who's following this series. I still own nothing except my OCs.

"Defenders of the Force Episode 6: The Fading Spirit"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 1

"Dad . . . Dad . . . come on Dad . . . you can do it . . . wake up . . ."

Han's head was pounding. His daughter's voice sounded like it was calling to him from the top of a hill. His eyelids felt glued shut, trapping him in swirling darkness.

"It's all right, Dad," Jaina's voice continued. "Mom called the doctor and a medical transport should be here in a few minutes."

Doctor . . . medical transport . . . his lungs seemed to tighten at the thought. The hard, cold floor pressed against his back and neck.

"Han?" There was Leia's voice, stripped of its authority and toughness, stimulating Han's breath to deepen.

"Han, are you awake?"

"Llllll . . ."

Now her soft hand was rubbing his cheek. "You're going to be all right, Han."

"Lllll . . ." Why wasn't his mouth letting him speak? Why couldn't his eyes open? What had taken his body prisoner?

"I'm here Han," Leia continued, her voice becoming more desperate. "I've got you. You'll be fine."

Han focused his entire being on saying her name, letting her know that he could hear her, but once again he couldn't get past the first letter.

"It's okay," Leia whispered, her thumb rubbing his forehead, pressing against his skull. "It's okay, you'll be fine . . ."

And he heard nothing more.

. . .

Leia stared down at the hospital bed where her husband lay, tubes in his arms and up his nose, a heart monitor steadily beeping, Jacen's old toy bantha resting by his shoulder. She watched his eyes for any sign of movement, any hint of waking up, but they remained still.

Jaina, Jacen, and Anakin stood on the other side of the bed, Jaina rubbing her father's hand and Jacen sitting the bantha back up whenever it slouched over. Anakin merely stared down at his father as if trying to reach out to him.

Why did any of them ever trust that droid? Leia bit her lip, nearly drawing blood. Why did any of them _ever_ trust that droid when it was clearly malfunctioning and Han obviously _wasn't _all right? Maybe if they had gone to a different medcenter in the first place, they would have been able to stop whatever it was before _this_ happened.

"We came as soon as we heard."

Leia heard her brother's voice and sensed all the Skywalkers' Force signatures, but she didn't look away from her husband.

"How is he?" Rianna asked.

Leia gritted her teeth. "Well _look_ at him. How do you _think _he is?"

Before she could continue, Chewie rushed into the room and ran up to the hospital bed. The instant he saw Han he let out a wail that needed no translation.

"I'm sorry, Chewie," said Luke, patting the Wookiee's back.

That drove Leia to shoot a glare at her brother. "You're _sorry?_ Is that all you can say? Why don't you explain how _your_ droid said Han was perfectly healthy?" She gestured down at her husband. "Does _this _look perfectly healthy to you?"

Luke gulped as he looked down at his brother-in-law. "I don't know why the droid said that, I really don't." He put his real hand on his sister's shoulder. "Did the doctors figure out what's wrong with him?"

"The results of his blood test haven't come in yet," said Leia. She swallowed, reaching up to grasp her brother's hand. "As of right now, they're stumped."

"I bet this has something to do with my blood," said Owen.

The others all looked at him with eyebrows raised. "Your blood?" asked Rianna.

"Yeah," said Owen. "They took my blood when they kidnapped me."

"What?" Luke, Leia, and Rianna all exclaimed at once.

"Why didn't you _tell_ us?" asked Luke.

Owen gulped, his eyes widening like a child in trouble for something he didn't know was wrong. "I_ told _you they stuck needles in me." He shuddered, his eyes lowering. "I didn't wanna talk more about it."

Luke stared down at Han's motionless body. "Oh no," he murmured, his breath growing short. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

"What?" asked Mae.

Luke took a deep breath. "Master Yoda once told me that long ago, soon after midichlorians were discovered, a Jedi thought he could transfer Force-sensitivity to others. He found some non-Force-sensitive volunteers and injected them with his blood, thinking that if he could spread the Force around, there could be more Jedi to protect the galaxy." He swallowed. "But the experiment didn't work."

"What happened?" asked Jaina.

Luke took another deep breath. "The test subjects' bodies rejected the transferred midichlorians. Every single one of them died."

. . .

Ahsoka's eyes shifted around as she drove her speeder through the busy skies of Coruscant. The Force signature she had sensed in the vent was still on the planet, she was sure of it. Why the little bastard hadn't immediately left Coruscant after shooting Han, she didn't know, but whatever the reason, he or she was still here.

"Where are you?" Ahsoka whispered, reaching out with the Force, concentrating on the faint Force signature buried in the sea of other beings. The chilly wind blew through her headstalks and the other speeders were blaring, but she forced herself to ignore it. "Where are you?" she repeated.

Thousands of Force signatures moved this way and that, making Ahsoka dizzy. She blinked hard, reminding herself to pay attention to the traffic. "Where are you?" she whispered yet again.

"Hey, you need a little help?"

Ahsoka stole a quick glance to the side and there was Master Uma driving in the adjacent speeder skyway. "No," the former padawan said quickly, "I don't need help."

"Really?" said Uma. "I beg to differ, given that you never actually _finished _your Jedi training."

"I've been trained enough to find our little fugitive."

"Maybe," said Uma, "but General Solo is fading fast. If we work together, we just _might _be able to get that fugitive to give us an antidote before Solo dies."

Ahsoka took a deep breath, sensing hostility coming from Uma but at the same time knowing she was right. "Okay," she said, "just don't get in the way."

. . .

Han didn't know where he was, but he knew he was exhausted. His eyes were sealed shut, his center of consciousness pulling him to sleep. Whatever he was lying in, it was soft, warm, easy to sink into and just drift off . . .

"Han?"

The voice was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He didn't automatically recognize it, but it pulled at him, as if it lurked somewhere deep in his subconscious. Maybe he would dream about it when he went to sleep . . .

"Han?"

No, whatever the voice wanted could wait . . . right now he needed sleep . . . sleep . . .

"Han, you _need _to wake up."

The sudden urgency in the voice jolted memories into his head. Sitting on the bed, the airy warmth of a ghost sitting beside him - with that thought his eyes popped open to blackness penetrated only by a transparent woman surrounded by blue light.

"Mom?" he whispered.

Rya Solo was staring down at her son, her eyes full of worry, which stimulated another memory of collapsing on the balcony of his apartment. Immediately it felt like his soul was tipping over the edge of a chasm. His arms wrapped around his chest and his knees bent inwards as if he were trying to cocoon himself from the suddenly-cold air.

"I'm . . . I'm dead, aren't I?" he gasped out.

Rya leaned over to gently touch her son's cheek. "No, not yet, but your body is struggling to stay alive."

"Wait, what?" Han exclaimed. "My body's . . . what the hell . . . where are we?"

"You are inside your mind," said Rya.

Han took a deep breath - or at least it felt like he was taking a deep breath. "So . . . I'm dreamin'?"

"In a way," said Rya. "Your body's unconscious, but it's fighting the invading species."

"What? What invading species? What the hell are you talkin' about?"

Rya stroked her son's head. "Come with me."

As the implications of that phrase hit Han, he immediately flinched away from his mother. "If I ain't already dead, I sure as hell ain't gonna go with you."

"You'll come with me if you want to _live,_" Rya said in a voice that was almost scolding. Han wondered if she would have sounded like this when he misbehaved if she had lived. "You're slowly dying as we speak." She held out her hand. "Come on."

Han found himself shivering. "H-how do I know you ain't here to fetch me for the dead?"

"I'm your _mother,"_ Rya said, sounding slightly offended.

"Yeah, well maybe you want both your kids with you."

Rya gave a slight sigh. "Sweetheart, you have a family who loves you and a life to return to." She spread her fingers out in a welcoming gesture. "You have to trust me here."

Han stared at his mother's hand for several moments, the chills of wherever this was biting into his skin. Leia, Chewie, his children, the Skywalkers . . . they needed him to live, but this was a gamble. A gamble that meant trusting his life to a woman he hardly knew, even if she _was _his mother.

"Han," Rya said in pleading voice, "trust me."

Han breathed in, letting the cold air fill whatever passed for his lungs when he was dreaming.

And he took her hand.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks as always for the reviews! Again, sorry for the long gap between updates. I got a new job and participated in NaNoWriMo and I've been generally busy.

"Defenders of the Force Episode 6: The Fading Spirit"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 2

"Where are we?"

"We're still in your mind, Han," said Rya.

"Well yeah," said Han, "but _where _are we?"

The ghost shrugged. "Where do _you _think this is?"

Han rolled his eyes. "I don't know, that's why I'm askin' you."

"Well, take a look around."

Han did as he was told. They were in someone's living room and it had the basic living room necessities: two couches, a stone fireplace, a holovid, some shelves lining the walls, various children's drawings decorating the mantle, but there was a smell in the air: a familiar spicy smell that almost made Han feel like he had been here before.

Then he saw it.

On the caf table sat an infant seat with a baby in it. He had a head of downy brown hair and was wearing a fluffy green sleeper with a picture of a Jedi Fighter on it. He was fingering with a teething ring and cooing to himself like any other baby would do, but for some reason Han found himself unable to look away from him.

"Han!"

Han's heart jumped as his head reflexively looked up. In ran a seven-year-old boy whom Han had previously seen as a ghost, but here he was alive, immature, carefree.

His older brother, Ky Solo.

"Hey Han!" the boy squealed, running up to the baby and leaning in close to him. "You look busy," he said in a high, singsong voice. "Is that ring keepin' you busy? Huh? Huh?"

The adult Han stumbled backward into the wall, his breath coming out in pants.

"Boys!" came another voice, a low female voice, and in came the woman Han had traveled here with, only now she had no blue light surrounding her and her body had actual substance. Her hair was tied up in a bun out of which several stray strands hung.

"Hey Mom," said Ky, "I think Han's gonna talk soon."

"Oh really?" said the living Rya, bending over and picking up the baby. "What makes you say that?"

"He's makin' lots of sounds," said Ky. "I think he even tried to say my name." He patted his brother's side. "Can you say 'Ky,' Han? Can you? Can you?"

The baby made a high sound in response, which Ky translated as another attempt to say his name.

Meanwhile the adult Han was trembling, gripping an end table for support. "Wh-why did you bring me here?" he gasped.

The ghost Rya was staring out at the figures of the past, barely turning her head to look at her adult son. "Truth be told, I didn't know what memory your mind would bring us to first."

"Memory?" Han exclaimed. "I sure as hell don't remember _this!"_

"Your _conscious _mind doesn't, but your _subconscious_ holds many more memories than your conscious mind can." She went back to gazing out at the living version of herself with her sons. "My boys . . ."

Han swallowed. "So . . . how're Ky and Dad doin'?"

"They're fine," said Rya, not taking her eyes off the memory. "Well, as fine as you can be in our . . . condition."

Han looked back at his brother, realizing that this had to have been soon before the boy died. He had appeared around the same age as this when Han saw his ghost.

"Ky . . . he ain't gonna grow up . . . ever," he found himself saying. He shifted his focus back to his ghost mother. "Is he?"

Now Rya seemed unable to look away from her children and the living version of herself. "Well, right now we're all just trying to get used to . . . everything, since you guys saved us from the netherworld. As for Ky growing up, well, his childhood was cut short anyway."

"Yeah, but stayin' a kid _forever . . ._"

"We're not here to talk about that," Rya said quickly, sharply cutting him off.

Han swallowed again, looking once more at his brother - his _older _brother trapped in an eternal childhood, playing with his baby brother, completely oblivious to the fate that awaited him.

"So . . ." he said carefully, "what _are_ we doin' here?"

Rya looked at her living son in complete seriousness. "You're dying, but not in an ordinary way. The invaders are eating away at you, body _and _soul, so you need to fight back."

"And . . . how'm I s'posed to do that?"

Rya looked out again at the happy family. "You need to fight with your very being, and for that, you need strength." She put her formless hand on her son's shoulder. "Maybe your mind thinks you'll gain strength from seeing this."

"Why?" Han exclaimed. "What's this gotta do with me bein' able to fight whatever it is?"

"Well, why don't you look? Take a good, long look."

Han wanted to protest some more, but for some reason he found himself unable to do so. He did has his mother instructed and looked back at the long-forgotten time. Rya was bouncing her baby in her arms, alternately humming and singing lyrics that sounded like she was making them up on the spot.

"My little Han is so special," she sang, "my little Han is so nice, I love him so much I'll kiss him twice!" With that, she kissed the baby's head twice and Ky giggled, playing with the baby's toes.

The adult Han gulped, his eyes unblinking. "This . . ." he whispered. ". . . I lost this."

The ghost Rya nodded slowly.

Han's breath was growing shallow, his eyes growing damp. _This, _the family he never knew until recently, whom he _still_ didn't know very well . . . what could have been if they had lived? Would he have never become a smuggler, never fought in the Rebellion?

Would he have never met Leia?

Suddenly Han's head was spinning. He collapsed against the wall, sinking to the floor, closing his eyes, though his mother's singing followed him into his head.

The warm air of his mother's ghost hand brushed his face, but he didn't open his eyes. "Sweetheart," Rya murmured, "it's all right."

"_No,"_ said Han. "It's _not_ all right. You guys died a horrible death and that's terrible, but it just occurred to me that if you didn't . . . I might not've met my wife. Yeah . . . that sounds awful, doesn't it."

The warm air stroked his cheek, causing him to slowly open his eyes. "Han . . . I understand," Rya said in a slow voice. "This is the life you never had, but the life you _do_ have is precious to you."

"I want to leave," Han said, struggling to make his voice firm. "Take us to another memory or whatever, just get us outta here."

Rya gazed one last time at her living self with her two sons, then she looked back at Han and nodded. "All right. But remember, I can't control where your mind takes us. I can only guide you."

"I don't care," said Han, "just get me outta here."

Rya nodded again. "All right, come on." With that, she took her son's hand and they were gone.

. . .

"Are you _sure_ you sensed him here?" Ahsoka asked as she and Uma entered one of Coruscant's many seedy clubs.

"We don't know it's a _him," _said Uma, her eyes darting around the club's patrons. Strippers of various species were dancing on the tables. Several customers were placing bets at the sabacc table with slurred speech. The music playing over the speakers seemed to be racing around the room.

Ahsoka breathed deeply, remembering the many clubs and taverns she and her master had visited on missions. It seemed like people always hid in places like this after committing heinous acts. "Okay, are you sure you sense him or her here?"

"Yes," said Uma. "Now be quiet."

Ahsoka bit her lip in order to refrain from saying something sarcastic about being ordered around by someone younger than herself. Whatever their age difference, the fact remained that Uma was a master and Ahsoka never even became a knight.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, taking in the smell of alcohol and smoke, feeling around for that Force signature among the many patrons.

"There," Uma said suddenly, pointing the direction of the bar.

"Are you sure?"

"You really _didn't _finish your training, did you?" said Uma, slightly rolling her eyes.

"Maybe not," said Ahsoka, "but I certainly chased my share of fugitives into seedy clubs in my time."

"Then I guess you're enjoying being out in the field again," said Uma. "Anyway, let's go."

The two Jedi slowly made their way closer and closer to the bar, trying not to call attention to themselves. By the time they passed the sabacc table, Ahsoka could feel the little bastard's Force signature, but she still couldn't tell exactly _where _he was.

"The Jedi can't last too much longer," someone at the bar said with a rough male voice, catching Ahsoka's interest.

"Nope," said another voice, this one deep and female, "Master Skywalker can only hold on for so long. Even an ancient Jedi padawan can't help him."

"Ancient?" Ahsoka exclaimed in a whisper.

By now they were close enough to see that the female voice was coming from a Twi'lek who was leaning against the bar, but Ahsoka still couldn't tell who the male voice was.

"But whatever," said the male voice, "all I know is that if I had kids in that Academy, I'd have pulled them out a long time ago."

Ahsoka ground her teeth as she and Uma inched closer. She reached out with the Force, feeling again for Han's attacker.

"I don't think Master Skywalker can handle it," the male voice continued. "But you know, because his daughter's a student now, he wants to look tough for her sake."

"Which just might get her killed," said the female voice. "Along with all his other students."

"Ahsoka!" Uma's sudden whisper drew Ahsoka out of her eavesdropping.

"What?" the former padawan whispered back.

"I think I found our culprit."

. . .

Leia squeezed her husband's hand as she breathed in and out, in and out, concentrating on his Force signature, which felt like straining to reach something in the distance. She rubbed his fingers one at a time, pressing on his callouses as if that would call him back.

"Han," she whispered, "stay with me."

The heart monitor kept beeping, beeping, beeping. Doctors kept checking on Han, but they always said his condition was unchanged. The children were alternately pacing and staring down at Han, while Chewie hadn't gotten up from his seat next to the bed. Luke and Rianna had been calling various people at the Jedi Temple, frantically asking if there was any known cure for whatever had killed the midichlorian test subjects, but no one had any answers.

Leia leaned over and kissed Han's forehead, tasting the salty sweat it was drenched in, remembering the stories of a lover's kiss magically waking the dead. Maybe there was a point in her early childhood when she believed such stories were true, that a true love's kiss really did have magical powers stronger than death itself.

If only she could believe it now. For a moment she wished the stories were true and Han would awaken now, but she could only allow herself that fantasy for a tiny second. This was the real world, where no magic kiss would wake Han.

"The results are in."

All heads turned up at the doctor entering the room. Her blue face was stretched out in worry as she gazed at the family for several moments.

"Well?" asked Leia.

The doctor took a deep breath. "There's . . . an abnormality in his blood."

"Is it midichlorians?" Luke immediately asked.

The doctor inhaled deeply again, her eyes darting among the family members before settling on Leia. "It _might _be, but if it is, they aren't neatly embedded in his cells like they are with Force-sensitives." She stared unblinking at Leia. "For his body, it's an invasion, like a germ." She swallowed. "His body is fighting . . . but it's losing."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Sorry it took so long to update this (again). Real life has a way of interfering with fanfic life.

Oh, and the new trailer for The Force Awakens is FREAKING AWESOME!

"Defenders of the Force Episode 6: The Fading Spirit"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 3

The smell was once again familiar, but this time it was a dusty, musky smell that Han automatically recognized. This time he could tell where they were without even opening his eyes.

The Falcon.

He opened his eyes and for a moment the Falcon's lounge let him relax, but then seeing _himself _took away whatever comfort he might have felt. His eyes bulged and probably remained open longer than they could have if he were awake. His double was slumped over the game table, wearing a robe over pajamas, his hair mussed, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a forlorn expression on his face.

Han couldn't stop staring at his double. It wasn't like looking in a mirror or even like looking at a hologram; it was like . . . being separate from himself.

"You remember _this, _don't you?" Rya asked.

Han shrugged. "I dunno, there were a lotta nights in the lounge with whiskey."

But then came another figure, also clad in a robe thrown over pajamas, her long brown hair mussed in a similar fashion.

"Hey," said the Han of the past. "Can't sleep either?"

"What makes you say that?" asked Leia.

"It's the middle of the night and you're up."

Leia rubbed her lips together. "Well, maybe I had to use the refresher."

"Then why'd you take a detour to the lounge?" Han said matter-of-factly. "C'mon, have a seat. We can be a couple of insomniacs keepin' each other company."

Leia rolled her eyes, though she did slide into the seat across from him. "So," she said, "what's keeping you up?"

Han sipped his whiskey before answering, staring into the distance as he did so. "Thoughts . . . I guess." He shifted his head in her direction. "What's keepin' _you _up?"

Leia shrugged. "The same."

They were both silent for a few minutes, making the present Han's lungs tighten as the memory of what happened next crept into his head.

"So . . ." Han of the past said in a rather awkward voice, ". . . what thoughts were keepin' you awake?"

Leia stared off, looking like she was trying not to look at Han. "Well, what thoughts are keeping _you _awake?"

"I asked you first."

The present day Han's stomach flinched slightly at his past self's immaturity. It didn't help that his mother gave his shoulder a tiny poke either.

Leia was tapping her fingers on the game table. "I was just thinking about . . . what happened this afternoon."

Han ran his thumbs up and down his glass. "Look . . . we don't have to talk about it."

"Why not?" asked Leia.

Han took a gulp of whiskey, feigning disinterest. "It ain't like you're the first woman I've ever kissed or anything."

"I figured that," said Leia.

A sudden grin stretched across Han's face as a thought occurred to him. "But am I the first man _you've _ever kissed?"

Present day Han's eyes widened. "Is _that _the 'Han Solo smirk' Leia's always talkin' about?"

Rya gave him an oddly similar grin. "Perhaps. Now listen."

"No," Leia was saying. "As a matter of fact, you _aren't."_

"But am I the first man you've ever kissed like _that?"_ Han persisted.

Leia's teeth gritted. "Who says I kissed you in any special way?"

"Ya think I haven't been kissed enough times to know when someone _really_ likes a kiss?" The grin on Han's face was, if possible, even wider than it was before.

"You're _impossible!"_ Leia growled.

Han's grin faded as he glanced down into his whiskey. "Yeah, I am. It's the sorta thing that happens when you're always on the run."

"Well you don't _have _to be impossible."

"Sweetheart, nice guys in my line of work usually end up dead." He gave a tiny sigh. "Specially when they've got a giant price on their head."

Leia's fingers were brushing uneasily on the table. "I thought you said you _were_ a nice guy."

"I am," said Han, "but you don't expect me to go around showin' everyone, do you? Like I said, that's a great way to end up dead."

By now present day Han felt like something was squeezing his lungs, despite his mother rubbing his shoulder with that intangible ghost warmth.

"Well maybe that's your problem," said Leia, folding her arms and leaning back against the wall. "You're afraid to let anyone in."

There was silence for several minutes after that, during which Han gulped down the rest of his whiskey as if Leia's comment hadn't affected him at all. The older Han tried to remember what he was thinking during that moment, but he found he couldn't.

"She was right, you know," said Rya.

Han took a deep breath as he turned to face his mother. "Yeah, I know she was, but what's any of this got to do with me dyin'?"

Rya shrugged. "Maybe your subconscious is trying to remind you what you have to live for."

Han exhaled through his teeth. "I _know _I got Leia and everyone else to live for."

"Look, I don't control your mind," said Rya. "Why else do you think you might be seeing this?"

Han gritted his teeth, for he remembered what was coming next and had no desire to relive it, but here it came.

"Want some whiskey?" his former self asked.

"No," Leia answered.

"Why not?"

Leia raised a brow at him. "Do I need a reason?"

Han tilted his head at her. "Hey, just offering, but seriously, why don't you want some?"

"Well it looks like you've only got one glass," Leia said matter-of-factly. "Do you really think I'd want to drink from a glass that has your spit on it?"

Han rolled his eyes. "C'mon, you know I got more glasses."

"I still don't want any," said Leia.

"Hey, if you can't handle the stuff, all you need to do is say so."

Present day Han's stomach felt like a giant fist was trying to squeeze it into a tiny ball as Leia's face hardened into one of those glares. Those Leia glares that never failed to make him wish he could travel a few seconds back in time and stop himself from saying whatever it was he said. Her breath was coming out through her teeth in small, angry hisses. Without a word, she flew to her feet and stomped out of the lounge.

"All right, that's it," said present day Han, glaring at his mother. "Why the _hell _does my mind want me to see _this _again?"

"I told you, I don't know," said Rya. "Maybe your mind wants you to accept that this happened and accept that you used to be a bit of a jerk."

"I prefer the term _scoundrel."_

Rya rolled her eyes in a good-natured manner. "Yes, I know you like that term because it sounds sexy, but I think _jerk _is more appropriate."

Han's brow furrowed. "So you're gonna lecture me now?"

"Well, I didn't get to scold you for your entire childhood," Rya said with a slight grin.

Han sighed. "Forget it, let's go somewhere else."

"Not until you admit you used to be a bit of a jerk."

Han glanced back at his former self, who was resting his head on his hand and staring into space. What was he thinking back then? He thought he remembered being a bit embarrassed, but he also thought he remembered thinking Leia would get over it tomorrow. Did he ever apologize? Why couldn't he remember if he did or not?

"Come on," Rya coaxed. "Admit you used to be a bit of a jerk."

Han sighed again. "Fine, I used to be a bit of a jerk, happy now?"

"No," said Rya, "I'll only be happy if you wake up."

. . .

The men's refresher stank of excrement mixed with alcoholic cleaners. Ahsoka wrinkled her nose and tried to avert her eyes from the males of various species doing their business in the urinals. It would probably be only a matter of seconds before someone noticed the two women and screamed for security, but her Force senses told her that their fugitive was here.

"Jedi business," Master Uma suddenly announced, causing all heads to turn towards them. "Don't disturb _our _business and we won't disturb _yours."_

There were quite a few grumbles among the patrons, but to Ahsoka's surprise, no one directly spoke up against the two Jedi. "All right," she whispered to Uma, "I see Master Skywalker's taught the public to respect the Jedi, but we've still got a little bastard to capture."

"_Little_ is right," Uma whispered back, though she gave no further elaboration.

Ahsoka took a deep breath, feeling the criminal's Force signature throbbing close to them. "I think he's in here," she whispered, tilting her head towards a stall.

"All right," Uma whispered back. "On three. One . . . two . . . three!"

On Uma's signal, the two women burst into the stall, hands on their deactivated lightsabers, ready to activate them at a moment's notice.

But the stall was empty.

. . .

The commlink at Leia's waist beeped and beeped and beeped, but she ignored it as she stared down at her husband. She didn't answer it until the eighth beep, and even then she raised it to her mouth in the slowest manner possible.

"Hello?"

"President Organa Solo?" came Mon Mothma's voice.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Your presence is required at the senate building," Mon Mothma said in a hasty voice.

"Later," Leia said immediately.

"No," said Mon, "you need to make a statement as soon as possible."

Leia snarled at the commlink. "What sort of statement? That my husband's dying? That the Revolutionaries apparently want to inject midichlorians into non-Force-sensitives?"

"They want to _what?"_ Mon exclaimed.

"I'll make a statement," said Leia, "but not until Han's out of danger."

"President Organa Solo, as your advisor I must advise . . ."

"Your advice is noted," Leia interrupted, "but I'm not leaving Han until he wakes up."

"And what makes you think he _will _wake up?"

The words sent coldness down Leia's spine, but she still glared at the commlink. "If there's one thing my husband is, it's a fighter. He won't go down without a fight."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! Note: A Zilkin is a small Star Wars species, the same as Colonel Gascon, the tiny colonel from the Clone Wars storyline where R2 was sent on a mission with a bunch of other astro droids and they ran into a clone with amnesia.

"Defenders of the Force Episode 6: The Fading Spirit"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 4

"And what the hell are we doin' _here?"_ Han exclaimed.

"You keep asking that like you expect me to know the answer," said Rya. "I _don't, _all right? I don't know how your mind works – I'm just here to help _you _figure that out."

Han inhaled through his teeth as he took in his surroundings. They were outdoors, surrounded by trees so tall they looked like they could stretch out of the atmosphere; the air smelled like wood and water and Wookiee growls could be heard in the distance. Kashyyyk, obviously, which probably meant they were somewhere in his childhood.

Sure enough, there was a small human boy of around eight next to one of the trees, fiercely sticking his fingers between the gaps in the bark, his dirty bare feet scraping against the trunk. His hair was even scruffier than it would be when he grew up, dangling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions like a wild mane.

"Heh," the older Han found himself saying, "I was always tryin' to climb trees as well as Wookiees could."

His mother smirked at him. "And how often did you bathe?"

"Only when Chewie forced me - I didn't like baths."

"It shows."

Han groaned, causing Rya to snicker. He wondered how often she would have forced him to bathe if she had lived. Maybe she would have chased him around wherever they would have lived and carried him to the tub like how he and Leia used to chase the twins.

Just then a group of child Wookiees came striding through the trees, the largest one pointing in the younger Han's direction and giggling at him.

[Look,] the large Wookiee growled, [Han's trying to climb again.]

The young Han ignored the chuckling of the other Wookiees and kept digging his fingers between the bark sections.

[Awww, isn't it cute?] the large Wookiee continued. [The little one thinks he can climb.]

Young Han growled in the most Wookiee-like voice he could muster. "Go away, Ronti."

Han of the present gritted his teeth, knowing fully well that Ronti and his gang never went away when he told them.

Sure enough, Ronti and his gang kept up their chortling. [Give it up, little one,] he taunted. [Why don't you go play with the babies and leave the climbing to us?]

With that, the young Han let go of the tree and whirled around to face Ronti's group, growling louder than before, baring his small teeth. "Take . . . that . . . back."

[Or you'll _what?_ Claw me to death with those tiny excuses for fingernails? Bite me with your non-existent fangs?]

With an ear-piercing scream, Han jumped on Ronti, punching him several times in the gut, but within a few seconds Ronti pounced on him, pinning him to the ground. In another second they were rolling around each other, bringing on laughs and cheers from Ronti's gang. Han punched, bit, kicked, but Ronti was stronger. Soon Han was bleeding from his arms, his nose, and his lips.

The older Han did his best not to flinch, though it was difficult when he remembered how Ronti's claws felt under his skin.

[What's going on here?] a familiar voice suddenly roared.

Chewie came stomping in and stood over them with his paws on his hips. [Han, get up! Now!]

Both Han and Ronti scrambled to their feet. "Ronti started it!" Han immediately protested. "It's not my fault!"

Chewie glared down at the boy, holding out his paw. [Come on, let's get you cleaned up.] After Han reluctantly took his paw, Chewie turned his glare to Ronti. [And as for you, your parents are going to know about this.]

Ronti and his gang ran off, leaving Chewie to deal with his adopted son, tugging him along through the woods. The older Han also felt himself being dragged along, as if an invisible wire was tugging him. In a few minutes, the trees opened to reveal the lakeshore, the wind blowing the fresh scent of water into Han's nostrils.

"Chewie," the child Han asked as the Wookiee scrubbed his arm with a rag dipped in the lake, "how come I ain't a Wookiee?"

[Because you're a human,] said Chewie.

"Then how come I ain't livin' with other humans?"

[You know why,] Chewie said as he rubbed the rag up and down Han's face. [Your parents died in a ship crash. Now hold still.]

"But _why?_" Han persisted, his voice gurgling around the cloth as Chewie wiped his bleeding lips. "How come I gotta be an orphan?"

Chewie was silent for several moments as he washed his adopted son, making him flinch from the stings. The older Han noticed a pensive look on the Wookiee's face, as if he too wondered why the boy had to be an orphan.

"Why did you ever leave here?"

Han jumped slightly at his mother's voice. "Well . . . I wanted to see the galaxy, ya know."

"I understand that," said Rya, "but you probably could have done that with an honest line of work. Why did you choose to become a smuggler?"

Han sighed as he sat down on the sand, gazing at his younger self who was still flinching and squirming as Chewie washed him. "Okay, I was about sixteen or seventeen. As you saw back there, I didn't exactly fit in with the Wookiees. They were all bigger than me, stronger than me, they could all do stuff I couldn't do, you get the picture."

"Yes," said Rya, sitting next to her son.

"Well like I said, I was about sixteen or seventeen and I'd decided I'd had enough of this planet. I stowed away on a trader ship thinkin' I could get myself a job on whatever planet they were goin' to." He ran his teeth over his lower lip. "The traders found me right after they came outta hyperspace and they were gonna take me back to Kashyyyk . . . but then we ran into some Imperial trouble. The Imps captured the ship and took us all prisoner – turns out those traders weren't as honest as they made themselves out to be."

"Smugglers?"

"Somethin' like that. Anyway, once the Imps raided the ship they dropped us off on Coruscant and took the ship with 'em, so we were stranded. Fortunately, the smugglers had some . . . _connections_ in the Coruscant underbelly." Han shrugged. "I learned the ropes, learned to fly, and by the time a year went by I was one of 'em. What's more, I _liked _it. I _enjoyed _the thrill of bein' an outlaw."

Rya looked like she wasn't sure how to react to this latest information about her son. Her mouth twisted from side to side before she spoke. "Well . . . what about Chewie?"

Han drummed his fingers on his knee, once more gazing out at Chewie washing his younger self. "Bout three years had gone by and I'd gotten myself in a lotta trouble by then. But then . . . Chewie found me." He swallowed, his throat feeling dry. "He'd been lookin' for me ever since I disappeared. Three years and he never gave up."

Rya smiled at her son. "You're lucky to have been raised by someone so caring." She gazed back over at Chewie. "Your father and I couldn't raise you, but at least you had Chewie."

"Yeah," Han said through another sigh. "Well anyway, you'd think he was gonna demand that I return to Kashyyyk right that instant, but he didn't. I told him I was an adult now and I was makin' my own decisions." A slight grin crept across his face as he remembered that incident. "He said he understood, but I was still makin' dumb decisions."

"You were," said Rya.

Han ignored her interruption. "So anyway, he didn't demand I come back to Kashyyyk – instead he wanted to be able to look after me, and if that meant becomin' my smuggling partner, then he'd do it. Heh, imagine, three years of lookin' for me and then becomin' a smuggler just so he could protect me."

Rya put her ghost hand on his shoulder. "He never gave up on you, so don't you give up on yourself."

"I dunno HOW to not give up!" Han exclaimed, glaring at his mother. "All I'm doin' here is watchin' memories! How the hell am I s'posed to fight whatever's killin' me like this?" He blew a long stream of air out of his mouth as he flopped down on his back. "I bet I ain't even really dyin'. I'm prob'ly just havin' some weird dream."

He expected his mother to scold him, but she gave no response. The sun's rays quickly irritated his eyes and pushed them closed as his breath slowed. The heat enveloped his body, massaging his skin, reminding him of how he'd often slept on this beach under the warm Kashyyyk sun. His center of consciousness was sinking down . . . down . . . down . . . he was floating in the familiar warmth . . . maybe falling asleep was the way out of this dream . . . maybe he'd wake up in his familiar bed with Leia by his side . . .

"_HAN! NO!"_

Han's eyes shot open, but he wasn't in his bed. He was still lying on the beach with Rya hovering over him, her hand on his shoulder and her eyes widened. "Han," she said in a rapid voice, "you _can't _go to sleep here – if you do you'll never wake up, ever."

"Whaa?" Han blinked several times, still feeling his eyelids wanting to stick together.

"You _have _to stay awake," Rya said rapidly.

"But I'm _not_ awake."

"Your body isn't awake, but your _soul_ is still conscious inside your mind." Rya's words sounded like they were running together – Han imagined that she might be panting if she still drew breath. "If your _soul_ falls asleep, you'll die."

. . .

Ahsoka blinked at the empty stall as if her eyelids had the power to reveal their culprit. His Force signature was still throbbing at her, telling her that he was in this stall, yet the stall was obviously empty. She breathed a couple of times, wondering if this was some kind of illusion.

"What are you _doing?"_ Uma exclaimed, shoving her way past the older Jedi. Without any hesitance, she stormed up to the toilet, lifted the lid off the tank, and stuck her hand into the tank, sending the heavy stench into Ahsoka's nostrils.

"Ah-HA, there you are!" Uma shouted, pulling her hand out of the tank. "_Here's_ our little fugitive."

Wriggling in her grasp was a Zilkin, barely bigger than her hand, his eyestalks darting around to glare at both the Jedi. Ahsoka ground her teeth at him, suddenly wondering if it would break Jedi protocol to spit on him.

"Are you the one who shot General Solo?" Uma asked in a hard voice.

The tiny creature merely laughed, a long, drunk, insane laugh.

Ahsoka growled at him, raising her lightsaber up to his neck. "Talk! Are you the one who shot General Solo?"

"Yes!" the Zilkin snarled, still laughing. "The mistress has big plans, big _big _plans."

Uma glared down at him. "What kind of plans?" she demanded, squeezing him slightly harder.

"We're gonna make _everyone _Force-sensitive!" he sang out. "Then when _everyone's _Force-sensitive, there will be no need for the Jedi!"

Ahsoka almost dropped her lightsaber. "What? That's insane!"

"Is it?" the Zilkin asked. "Well General Solo's got the Skywalker boy's midichlorians flowing through his veins _right now!"_

"Idiot!" Ahsoka exclaimed. "You can't transfer midichlorians!"

"Well I just did!" he squealed, drooling on Uma's fingers.

"And General Solo is _dying!"_ Uma shouted. "Now if you want to live to see another day, you'll tell us the antidote."

The Zilkin broke into another drunk laugh, as if he didn't care if he lived or died so long as he could have some amusement beforehand. "There _is _no antidote, you fools!"


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

"Defenders of the Force Episode 6: The Fading Spirit"

Chapter 5

There was no antidote.

No antidote.

No antidote.

It had been just a few minutes since Ahsoka's call, but it felt like those words had been pressing in Leia's head for hours. She paced around Han's bed, her gaze never leaving her husband until she felt a small hand slip into hers, and even then she only looked away from Han long enough to see that the hand belonged to Owen.

"Aunt Leia?" the boy asked. "Is Uncle Han gonna be okay?"

How was she supposed to answer that? What could she tell her nephew that wouldn't devastate him?

"Is this cause of me?" Owen continued. "Cause the guys took my blood?"

Leia took a deep breath. "Owen," she said, "this isn't because of you. It's because of the people who kidnapped you." She gazed over at Chewie, who was stroking Han's hair as if he thought that would wake him up.

"But they still used _my _blood," Owen persisted.

"Owen, stop it," said Luke, looking up from his datapad where he was still fruitlessly searching for information about transferred midichlorians. "This _isn't _your fault."

Jacen straightened his old toy bantha up again, gazing down at his father with unshed tears in his eyes. "Well _now _what do we do?"

"There _has_ to be an antidote," Jaina growled from the corner. "He's lying . . . he _has _to be."

Before Leia could respond, her comlink beeped again. With a swallow, she answered it, silently praying that Jaina was right and the culprit had given Ahsoka and Uma the antidote.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end wasn't Ahsoka's or Uma's, but that of a young teenager. "Is this President Organa Solo?"

"Yes it is," said Leia. "Who is this?"

"It's Tamyra Offee," said the caller. "I'm a friend of your son and niece."

"Yes, I know," said Leia. "I've seen you around the school. Would you like to talk to them?"

"If they want."

Leia looked up to where Mae and Anakin had been sitting in adjacent chairs; neither one had spoken since Ahsoka's news. "Would you like to talk to your friend?"

"Sure," Mae said in a gloomy voice as Leia handed her the comlink.

"Hey guys," Tamyra's voice said from the comlink. "I . . . heard what happened and I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Anakin's hands were trembling slightly. "Dad says it's weird when people say that, like it's their fault when something bad happens . . . but thanks."

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Tamyra asked.

Mae ground her teeth. "Apparently the Revolutionaries are crazy enough to think you can make someone Force-sensitive just by shooting midichlorians into them, so now Uncle Han's body is rejecting them and he's dying."

A small gasp came from the comlink. "I'm . . . I'm so sorry. He was so nice that day we had lunch with him . . . I wish there was something I could do." She sighed. "They say my aunt Barriss was a healer . . . do you think maybe she could have healed this?"

"No," said Mae.

"I don't know if I've inherited her healing talents or not," Tamyra continued. "Our training hasn't gone that far yet, but maybe . . ."

"Tamyra, just _stop!"_ Mae shouted. "You can't Force heal this, no one can! No one can do _anything!_"

Jaina growled. "So what are we _doing_ here if no one can do _anything?_ Just waiting for Dad to die?"

Before anyone could respond, the beeps in Han's heart monitor increased their tempo, growing faster and faster and faster until they sounded like a continuous flickering beep.

"What's going on?" Rianna exclaimed.

Three medical droids immediately burst into the room, one of whom hovered up to Han and pressed an oxygen mask onto his face.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!" another droid exclaimed, hovering around the family. "You all have to leave right this instant."

"I'm _not _leaving my husband!" said Leia.

"I'm sorry, Princess," said the droid, "but we _must _not be distracted while treating your husband."

Leia swallowed, knowing the droid was right. "Fine," she said, "but you'd _better _keep us notified."

. . .

"No!" Han shouted. "Not here, _anywhere _but here!"

"I'm sorry," said Rya in a firm voice, "but your mind wants you to relive this time."

"Well my _mind_ can go to hell," said Han. "Get me outta here."

Rya grabbed her son's shoulders and stared into his eyes. "Han, listen to me. Your mind sent us here for a reason. You _have _to relive this moment if you don't want to die."

"Why's my mind so convinced that I wanna die?" Han exclaimed.

"Well right now your _body _is surrendering." Rya's voice was fast and desperate. "Your _body _can't handle this alone – if there's going to be _any _hope your mind and your spirit need to fight as hard as possible, which means reliving this time." Her eyes widened at her son. "I don't want _two _dead children."

Han swallowed, slowly turning around to face the steam rising from the floor, hear the hissing and humming, feel the sweltering heat. His hands started shaking when he spotted his past self being led into the chamber with his hands in binders, Leia and Chewie beside him.

"It's all right, Han," Rya whispered. "I'm here."

"What's goin' on, _buddy?"_ his past self asked Lando.

"You're being put into carbon freeze."

Han of the present suddenly felt himself gasping. The trembling in his hands spread to his arms, his shoulders, his chest.

"What if he doesn't survive?" he heard Boba Fett ask. "He's worth a lot to me."

Then came the deep, menacing voice of Darth Vader. "The Empire will compensate you if he dies. Put him in."

As Chewie attacked the stormtroopers, present day Han's world was spinning in his head. He clutched his stomach, feeling as if he would vomit if he were awake. Was it possible to vomit in dreams? He didn't want to find out. _It's not real,_ he kept trying to tell himself. _I'm not really here._

His past self gave Leia that kiss, that kiss meant to be a final goodbye, and Han of the present collapsed, his body thudding against the cold floor.

"Han!" Rya's voice cried from what sounded like somewhere far away. "Han, don't do this, stay awake, stay awake!"

_It's not real, it's not real, it's not real._ Han pressed the thought in his head, but that did nothing to eliminate the nausea.

"I love you."

"I know."

The warm air of Rya's intangible embrace surrounded Han's body. "Stay awake, son, _stay awake!"_

But Han was sinking down, down, down into the chamber with his past self, slipping out of his mother's embrace. Already that biting, unbearable cold was surrounding him, digging under his skin, completely enveloping him. His every breath was a gasp as he slid further and further down until finally his hand slipped out of his mother's.

"Don't go into the dark!" Rya cried. "Fight!"

And he was alone.

. . .

Leia sat slumped against the wall of Han's room. The others were pacing up and down the hall, but she lacked the energy to even stand. She breathed in and out, in and out, reaching out with the Force, trying to get a sense of what was happening in that room.

Han was as unresponsive as ever and the droids were frantically working to revive him. She concentrated on his Force signature, but it was growing fainter, fainter, fainter, slipping out of her grasp like water through fingers . . . then the Force told her something else.

His heart had stopped.

Once she sensed that, Leia flew to her feet, pressing against the wall, closing her eyes, every bit of her being focusing on her husband, sending wave after wave of Force energy to him.

_Damn it, Han! _she thought out to him. _Don't do this. Fight it, I know you can! _

She wanted to bang on the wall and demand that the droids let her in, zap his heart back into beating _herself_, do _something_ besides wait outside his room. _Come on, honey._ She kept sending her thoughts out to him, praying that she could reach the deepest corners of his mind, that somewhere in the realms of unconsciousness he would hear her. _You're not dead yet, I know you're not. It's not too late._

_Fight . . . _

. . .

"Mom? Mom, where are you?"

No answer came, no specter appeared, no warm air wrapped around him. His world was completely dark and completely silent.

"Mom?" he called out again. "C'mon, I thought you said you were here for me!"

Still no answer. Where was he, anyway? Back in the Force netherworld? The moment after waking from carbonite?

_In _carbonite?

Han gripped his chest as several gasps pushed their way out of his mouth and he sank to his knees. No . . . no . . . he was unconscious in the carbonite . . . his mind couldn't possibly remember it . . . but then again, Rya had said this his subconscious remembered far more than his conscious mind. He'd seen himself as a baby; maybe now he was remembering unconsciousness.

A pounding pain was in his chest, causing him to collapse again. His whole body was shaking, his breath was coming out in short, desperate pants, his eyes were squeezed shut. Was this what death was like? Was he going to die all alone?

_Damn it, Han!_

Was he hallucinating in his dying moments? He thought he heard Leia's voice calling to him from somewhere far away.

_Don't do this._

"Lllll . . . Llllleeee . . ." Han struggled to call out to his wife, but again his voice wouldn't obey him. His chest was getting tighter, tighter, tighter . . . he would have been screaming in agony if his voice worked.

_Fight it, I know you can!_

Fight it _how?_ Han ground his teeth, his chest feeling like it was about to burst open. How could he fight _this?_ His body was curled up as tightly as it was able, wanting death to simply take it.

_You're not dead yet, I know you're not._

_Yes I am . . ._ were the only words Han could think back.

_It's not too late._

_Leia . . . please . . . it's over . . ._

_Fight!_

If Leia's voice said anything else, Han couldn't hear it over the sound of his own hyperventilating. Whatever was throbbing in his chest shoved against his ribcage over and over. Fight . . . how could he fight? He was just a soul curled up in the darkest corners of his mind and waiting for the end.

He was sinking down . . .

Down . . .

Down . . .

_Han, the Force is inside you. Use it!_

Now his Leia hallucination was talking nonsense. Couldn't it just let him die in peace?

_Fight it Han, don't leave us! We need you._

They needed him . . .

They needed him!

Suddenly he felt like he was struggling for breath in rushing water, frantically pushing himself to the surface. _Open your eyes . . . _he told himself. _Open your eyes._

Maybe it took several minutes, maybe it took hours, but finally he managed to peel his eyelids apart from each other, though he found himself still in the darkness when he did so. _Now what?_ How was he supposed to help his body fight this when he couldn't even wake up?

The pain in his chest was still throbbing, making his eyes want to close again, but this time he gritted his teeth and forced them to stay open. _Fight._ He took a long inhale, filling his lungs, causing the pain to explode out of his chest, but he gritted his teeth further, grinding them together.

_Fight . . . _

He breathed again . . . and again . . . and again . . . focusing on keeping his breath steady. Leia was right . . . he wasn't dead yet . . . there was still time . . .

His chest kept pounding, harder and harder and harder, making his lungs want to hyperventilate again, but this time he concentrated on keeping his breath steady.

_Come on Han, you can do this._

The Leia delusion helped him press the faces of his wife and family into his mind. They needed him to live . . . they needed him to live . . .

Bit by bit, every inch feeling like he was pushing a boulder, his arms stretched out, releasing his chest from their grasp. _Fight . . . they need you. _The memories he had just relived flew through his mind as he pressed his hands against whatever the ground was and pushed his body into a crawling position.

Gravity immediately wanted to pull him back down, sending wave after wave of nausea through his head. He grunted loudly as several dry heaves ran up his throat, burning his insides. It would be so, so easy to just lie back down . . . yes, lie back down . . . this was pointless . . .

_Han, don't give up, you nerfherder! Don't give up!_

Sweat was dripping down Han's face and his chest was still throbbing in pain. His arms felt like twigs that could snap at any moment, but still he ground his teeth, his breath coming out in heaves. He _wouldn't _let the darkness win . . . he _wouldn't . . ._

Slowly, painfully, every inch a struggle, he pushed himself up, up, up, his head always spinning, his chest always pounding, his mind always focusing on his family and his mother.

He stood up.

. . .

With a loud, desperate gasp, Han's eyes flew open to a bright, piercing light. Did it finally happen? Was he dead at long last?

"He's awake!" a mechanical-sounding voice exclaimed.

Only then did Han become aware of the mask over his nose and mouth and the tubes in his arms. He blinked several times, slowly bringing the medical droids hovering over him into focus. His face was drenched in sweat, his entire body felt stiff, and he was still exhausted, but he was _awake._

"General Solo?" one of them asked. "How are you feeling?"

His throat was dry and it took at least a few minutes for his voice to function, but when it did, only one word came out.

"L-L . . . Llllll . . . Leia . . ."

. . .

The entire family raced into the room once they heard Han was awake, Leia leading the way. The droids had barely gotten the mask off of Han's face before Leia dove down and planted a long, passionate kiss on her husband's lips.

"Han . . . Han . . . Han . . ." she whispered between kisses.

"Hey," Han said in a weak voice with a slight chuckle, "you're actin' like I almost died or somethin'."

"How is he?" Luke asked one of the droids.

The droid was staring at Han's readings as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "I don't know how it happened, but the excess midichlorians in his system appear to have been neutralized."

Rianna's eyes were wide. "But how?"

"It's cause Dad used the Force to wake himself up," Anakin said simply.

"What?" exclaimed Mae.

"I felt a tremor in the Force just before he woke up," said Anakin, looking around the room. "Didn't you guys feel it?"

Mae twisted her mouth. "I felt _something,_ but I didn't know what it was."

"Me too," said Jaina. She looked down at her father. "_Did _you use the Force?"

Han gulped. "If I did, I sure as hell ain't usin' it again. I know I dreamed a whole lotta shit."

"Uncle Han, you said the S word!" exclaimed Owen.

Jacen shifted his eyes. "Uh . . . well does it really _matter_? The important thing is that Dad's out of danger." He placed his old bantha on his father's chest. "You _are _out of danger, right?"

"I _think_ so," said Han, smiling up at his son's old toy as Chewie ruffled his hair.

[I knew you would make it, cub,] the Wookiee growled.

"Well . . . that makes one of us." Han closed his eyes, absorbing Chewie's soft paw and wondering exactly what he had just experienced. _Did _he just go on a journey through his subconscious, or was it a dream and only a dream? Was his son right – did he use the Force to save himself? Would he ever know?

He let out a sigh as his eyes opened to his family's loving faces. Well, whatever had happened, he was alive, and perhaps it _was_ because of a ghost's desperate attempt to save him.

_Thanks, Mom._

. . .

In the Revolutionaries' hideout, the scientist Lee was bowing before the leader, certain that she wouldn't be happy with this.

"I'm sorry, mistress," Lee said in the humblest voice she could muster. "It appears that transferring midichlorians must be labeled as a failure."

"I know," said the leader from under her hood.

Lee gulped. "Well, aren't you upset?"

The leader wove her fingers together. "I always knew it was a gamble. It was extremely unlikely to work."

Lee gulped again. "Well, what about Har Tu?"

"He'll just do some time in prison," said the leader.

"And you're not worried that he'll crack under interrogation."

"No," said the leader. "He doesn't know my _true _plans." She stared at Lee, a smile showing under her hood. "It's time for Plan B."

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
